Plymouth memories of an octogenarian

by William T. Davis

Among the bonnets at various times in fashion I shall refer alone to the poke bonnet because its etymology is a little confused. This bonnet had plaits around its crown and sides. One of the many definitions of the word poke given in the Century dictionary, which no library is complete without, is, “to poke plaits in a ruff,” and I have no doubt that “poke bonnet” meant merely a bonnet with plaits poked in the ruff. I must omit the scarlet cloak with its black silk quilted hood, worn by elderly women in my youth, the busks worn in the corsets, made of whalebone, steel or wood, the bustles below the waist behind, the quilted mandarins for cold weather, the India shawls now packed away in cedar closets awaiting their return in the revolving wheel of fashion, turbans, lace caps, night caps, hoops and other female paraphernalia, forming a sea without a shore, and speak lastly of pattens, which in my early boyhood were giving place to the overshoe and rubbers.

I remember a pair of pattens in an old closet where they had been consigned to an undeserved exile after many centuries of faithful service. The patten consisted of a wooden stock like the stock of a skate, with an oval iron ring attached to its under side, and with toe and heel pieces fastened by straps to the foot and ankle, its purpose being to protect the foot from mud and slush. It can be traced back to the 14th century, when it was called the galoe-shoe or galoshe. After its introduction into France, where it was called patin, the English galoshe became patten, but as if to revenge itself against the usurper, it has had a resurrection, and now lives in its legitimate successor, the galoshe of the present day.

I shall devote a portion of this chapter to a mention of those words and phrases which have made their appearance at various times, and have become incorporated for a longer or shorter time in the language of our people. Only a few of these are peculiar to Plymouth. Some have come down to us from our English ancestors, some owe their origin to the different languages of continental Europe, some are slang, which have found their way through unknown channels into the speech of men, and a few through ignorance of orthography have found a place in colloquial use. My reference to these must be restricted by necessarily limited space.

Some of my readers may be surprised at the number of words and names which have come to us from foreign tongues, and have made themselves as much at home as if they were to the manor born. We have the word wharf from the Swedish hworf, and the word dock from the Gothic dok, lane from the Dutch laan, alley from the French allee, derived from the verb aller, to go. The verb tedder meaning to ted or spread hay was introduced by the Irish when they began to work on our farms. Fishermen in Gloucester, Provincetown and Plymouth and other places, after drying codfish on flakes, yaffle them up and carry them into the fish house. The word yaffle is old English, and means an armful and the word stadle is the Scotch stathel, and means the stakes driven into a salt meadow, on which salt hay is to be piled. Scuttle comes from the French escoutelle, and the word kench, which means the bin in which salt codfish are piled, is old English. The word kid not only stands for an animal, but is also the name of the square bin on the deck of a fishing vessel by the side of each fisherman, in which he throws his fish. Sailors got into the way of calling any box without a cover a kid. I remember a story told by my mother when I was a boy of her going to church and finding a strange man in her pew, who jumped over the rail into the next pew, saying, I beg your pardon, Madam, I got into the wrong kid. The word coverlid, often called coverlet, is French derived from the French word couvrelit, cover bed. The word sass applied to vegetables, and also meaning impudence, is not as many suppose, a Yankee slang word, but has an English origin, and is still used in the county of Essex, in England. The word cabbage, as applied to the vegetable, came from Holland, and was introduced into England by Sir Anthony Ashley. He was accused of securing much loot, while holding a command in Spain, and he was so closely associated with the vegetable in the public mind, that on his monument at Wimbourne the head of a cabbage was sculptured, and in consequence of his looting the word became applied to looting in general, and finally to the odds and ends saved by tailors in their trade. The word arter, for after, came down to us from England, and if I remember right, was used by Governor Bradford in his history. The word fetch is an old Saxon word, used by Bacon, Shakespeare and many other old writers, and is worthy of respect, and continued use, though at present excluded from elegant speech. The word fetching expressing attractiveness in beauty or dress is a comparatively recent half slang innovation. The origin of the word contraptions, meaning new notions, I do not know, but I have heard it many times in my day. Arey or airey came from England, where it was sometimes called arrow or narrow. Hearth in two syllables, with emphasis on the e is a word I have never heard out of Plymouth. As long as I can remember it has been used by the deer hunters in Plymouth woods. Once Branch Pierce, the famous hunter, put Daniel Webster on a stand, and later in the day called out to him that the dogs had been out of hearth an hour, and that the hunt was up. The word dike as applied to a sloping grassy bank or terrace, is universal in Plymouth, and as far as I know, never used in that sense anywhere except in Plymouth, and its vicinity. Crojeck or crotchet, is a common corruption of cross jack in Plymouth and elsewhere as applied to the lower yard on the mizzen mast of a ship. Chimley for chimney, has been common in Scotland, and may be found in Scott’s Rob Roy. In the United States it is usually spelled chimbley, but it is rarely heard in Plymouth.

James Russell Lowell has these lines:

“Ag’in the chimbley crooknecks hung,

An’ in amongs ’em, rusted,

The ole queen’s arm that granther Young

Fetched back from Concord, busted.”

Sun-up for sunrise, I do not remember to have heard in Plymouth more than once, but I have heard it often in other Plymouth county towns. As the opposite of sun-down, which is English, it seems as correct as sunset or sunrise, and may be properly used. Bile is often used for boil, and has been thought by some of the best writers to be more correct. It is, however, going out of use. Brewis is an English word meaning bread covered with broth, but when introduced into New England, it was applied to rye and Indian crusts boiled with milk and butter.